


New Horizons

by ImprobableDreams900



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bentley, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Post-Canon, Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImprobableDreams900/pseuds/ImprobableDreams900
Summary: In which the Bentley learns a new song, and Crowley reminisces on his and Aziraphale’s relationship.





	New Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Something a bit introspective for the new year. Thanks to Lunasong365 for [her timely post](http://lunasong365.tumblr.com/post/181598343843/brian-may-interview-queen-legend-to-release-first) about the New Horizons probe.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> At 5:33 AM GMT on January 1, 2019, the NASA New Horizons probe flew past a Kuiper Belt object called Ultima Thule.* It is the furthest object from the Earth that a spacecraft has ever visited.
> 
> To commemorate the event, Brian May, Queen guitarist and astrophysicist, wrote and released his first (original) solo single since 1998, titled “[New Horizons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntLWaioEnwo).” Its world premiere was at 5:02 AM GMT.
> 
> * Literally “furthest Thule”; “Thule” is the place in ancient Greco-Roman cartography that is the furthest north. _Ultima Thule_ is used generally to describe a place “beyond the borders of the known world.”

 

_January 1, 2019_

 

The Bentley only played the Best of Queen. What exactly constituted Queen’s “best,” however, was a matter for dispute.

Some days “Princes of the Universe” made the cut; other times, “No One But You” was favoured. There had been several months in which “Bohemian Rhapsody” hadn’t been played at all. The Bentley had changing tastes, but not tastes so wide that she would ever consider playing anything that wasn’t Queen.

So, over the years, the Bentley had cycled through Queen’s entire discography, some one hundred and eighty songs. Through sheer osmosis, Crowley—and, to a lesser extent, Aziraphale—had also become familiar with Queen’s entire discography.

It therefore came as a bit of a surprise to Crowley when, on his way back to his and Aziraphale’s cottage in the South Downs, he heard the opening notes of a song he didn’t remember having ever heard before.

He glanced at the Bentley’s dashboard in surprise, but, though the cassette player1 was empty and the radio dial was switched off, the music was definitely coming from the car’s speakers. This was not terribly surprising, though, given that the Bentley had never had any trouble playing music of her own volition.

Crowley glanced at the road and reached over with one hand to fiddle with a knob by the radio tuner, increasing the volume slightly as the gently rolling hills unfolded beneath the Bentley’s tyres.

 _“The revelations of New Horizons may help us to understand better how our solar system was formed,”_ an electronic voice fizzled from the speakers. After a few moments, Crowley realised with surprise that he recognized the voice as Stephen Hawking’s.

“Don’t remember him hanging out with Queen much,” Crowley muttered to himself, serpentine eyes flicking back to the road.

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the Bentley play a new song, but there’d been only a handful over the years since Freddie Mercury’s untimely death. The best he could figure, the Bentley had developed quite a fondness for the main four members of the band, and as such had never been inclined to play later collaborations between the remaining band members and other artists. This was especially true of songs produced with new lead vocalists, whom the Bentley evidently considered unworthy replacements for the late great Freddie Mercury.

But, even if the song currently issuing from the Bentley’s speakers had been produced without the faintest touch of Freddie Mercury, it sure as hell2 sounded like Queen. The guitar riffs were there, along with the slightly experimental vocals and the rising and falling swells of sound so characteristic of the band at the height of their popularity.

And the voice beginning to fill the car was familiar—not Freddie’s, of course, but not one of his later replacements’, either. No, if Crowley’s admittedly incomplete knowledge of the group was accurate, it sounded like Brian May, Queen’s lead guitarist and an occasional singer for the band.

Apparently, this new song was Queen enough for the Bentley’s picky tastes.

Crowley kept his eyes on the road as the song built towards the first verse, layers of sound building on top of each other like a wave threatening to crest.

 _“New horizons to explore. New horizons no one’s ever seen before,”_ May sang, his voice rendered oddly twangy by an unusual electronic treatment. _“Limitless wonders in a never-ending sky. We may never, never reach them; that’s why we have to try.”_

 _New horizons_ , Crowley thought to himself as he steered the Bentley along a gentle curve, the leafless trees clustered along the edge of road seeming oddly vibrant in the bright afternoon sunlight.

 _“New horizons to take our breath away. New horizons getting closer every day,”_ May continued from the stereo. _“Somewhere in the distance, a wonder will appear.”_

Crowley’s eyes moved idly to the horizon laid out in front of him, and the cottage he knew lay tucked away in the gentle folds of the hills. He felt himself smile, allowing his thoughts to be pleasantly diverted.

He and Aziraphale had mutually decided to leave the overcrowded London for something a bit more laid back shortly after the failed Apocalypse, and it was easily one of the best decisions he’d ever made.3

Their first few years at the cottage had been a bit awkward as they settled into their new routines and came to a better understanding of what exactly living together entailed.4 They had eventually fallen into a rhythm, though, as they always did, and Crowley came to prize the many benefits of this new arrangement far more than the relatively minor inconveniences.

Shortly after the turn of the latest millennium, they began to drift even closer to each other, exchanging brief, tentative kisses to cheeks and foreheads and twining their fingers together during films and when walking together. They kept it all strictly unspoken, as if the act of naming whatever it was would remind them that this was something a demon and an angel were very much _not_ supposed to have.

Luckily, Heaven and Hell seemed to have received the memo about Adam’s anti-meddling policy, and Crowley and Aziraphale’s respective superiors had maintained a sullen silence ever since the failed Apocalypse. Crowley hadn’t heard from Hell in over a decade, and Aziraphale only received the occasional message about changes to Heaven’s official stance on various social issues.5

With the pressure from their respective bosses eased, it was easy to grow closer, not technically lovers but as good as. It was the happiest Crowley could remember being in a long time—maybe ever—and he wanted to stay like this forever.

 _“The future is beckoning, and onward and onward we fly,”_ May sang as the song continued, momentarily pulling Crowley out of his reverie.

 _New horizons_ , Crowley thought again. _The future is beckoning_. What was his new horizon?

For most of his existence, Crowley hadn’t really had a horizon to reach for. He’d just been trying to survive. His prospects had been relatively bleak.

At some point, he supposed, he must have realised that there was a nonzero chance that he and Aziraphale could one day become friends. It was a relatively small chance, a tiny glimmer of possibility on a horizon bristling with all the grim fates that could await him—death, discorporation, an eternity spent in Hell—but he had clung to it anyway.

As he’d spent more time on Earth, he had come to appreciate the planet and the humans who lived upon it, and his chances of getting recalled to Hell dwindled as the centuries flew by. He grew more optimistic that things would work out okay. The glimmer of light on the horizon—his hope for a better future—expanded slightly.

And then, somewhere along the way, he and Aziraphale _did_ become friends, without either of them quite noticing when that line had been crossed. Crowley supposed that that was part of the nature of horizons—they were difficult to see when they’d drawn so close.

Crowley didn’t usually spend a great deal of time looking at his horizons, at the myriad of potential long-term futures spread before him. It had always seemed a bit foolish to him, the idea of striving for a horizon, of hoping for something so far in the future that the probability of its occurrence was practically non-existent. It was just setting oneself up for disappointment.

That wasn’t to say that Crowley didn’t hope for things; it was just that he liked to hope for sensible things.6

Naturally, this rule excluded Aziraphale, as all of Crowley’s rules for himself did.7 Where the angel was concerned, Crowley couldn’t help but wish for anything and everything. First he had wanted a respite from Hell, and then a sympathetic ear, and then a real friend for the first time in his life, and finally a partner he could fully rely on. And, against all the odds, Crowley had eventually gotten all of those things.

He had reached all of his horizons. All of his hopes, which had seemed so foolish and unlikely as they glimmered at him temptingly from his horizon, had eventually come to pass. And, somehow, he had arrived at the present, in a situation that would have been completely beyond anything he could have imagined at the start, when he had Fallen. He could only see as far as his present horizon, after all; everything beyond it was a great big question mark.

What, then, was his new horizon? Did he even have one? What could he possibly wish for that he didn’t already have?

The music swelled again, a guitar riff overtaking the staccato drums. _“New horizons, a dream coming true.”_

“A dream coming true,” Crowley repeated to himself, slowing the Bentley as he took a corner, drawing closer to the location of the cottage.

Frankly, as far as Crowley was concerned, all of his dreams _had_ come true. All of them that mattered, anyway.8

Except maybe…

Crowley fell silent as the Bentley sped closer to the cottage, the familiar hills flashing past on either side.

_“New horizons that will change our point of view.”_

Because that was what horizons did, wasn’t it? They took the seemingly unattainable and, in time, laid it at your feet. And then there was a new horizon, equally far away but, ultimately, no more unattainable than the last.

He had an idea now of what might lie on his new horizon, and, though it seemed preposterous and more than a little presumptive, maybe that’s what horizons were meant to be.

He and Aziraphale were just beginning to really settle into their relationship, still too cautious to move too quickly or even openly discuss it. But maybe…maybe one day that wouldn’t be the case. Maybe Heaven and Hell would continue to leave them alone, and they could begin to rely on the prospect of a future where they were free from their betters’ politics and policies. Maybe the two of them would feel secure enough to be more forward with each other, and dare to speak aloud the sentiment that had so far been left unspoken.

And…just _maybe_ , if all of the pieces fell into place, Aziraphale and Crowley might one day exchange those words in a formal setting, and then they would truly belong to each other.

Crowley couldn’t help himself from smiling at the prospect, as unlikely as it seemed. But it was something to reach for, a horizon to look towards as he worked his way through the wonderful landscape he had found himself in. A prospect that, even a century ago, he would have never dared to dream might one day be his.

 _“We’re off to new horizons, so hold on to the wheel,”_ Brian May sang, and Crowley pressed his foot further against the accelerator.

The Bentley sped forward more quickly, rapidly covering the remaining miles between Crowley and the little cottage nestled into the hills, and the angel who would be waiting for him there.

The horizon before Crowley was distant and the path there a bit unclear, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was the most wondrous view he’d had yet.

 

_________ 

1 Despite this being the modern age and all that, Crowley had yet to get around to installing a CD player. He was now congratulating himself on his sloth, because the CD was already very nearly obsolete.

2 Though, admittedly, many things involving Hell were less than sure these days, at least the way Crowley saw it.

3 Other great decisions included proposing the Arrangement and deciding in 78 AD that Pompeii was getting a bit repetitive and he ought to find somewhere new to work his wiles.

4 Like dealing with Aziraphale’s habitually untidy nature, for one. The angel left things absolutely _everywhere_ , and protested whenever Crowley got fed up and started putting things away for him, claiming that now he didn’t know where anything was.

5 Crowley felt that Heaven’s constant waffling about which side was in the right was a sure indication that ineffability wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be, but, as long as Heaven wasn’t trying to reassert its authority over Aziraphale, he was more than happy to let sleeping seraphim lie.

6 Like expanding his plant collection, or not crying the next time he watched something on the Hallmark channel.

7 Given that most of Crowley’s rules for himself revolved around making sure he was emotionally contained and therefore protected, this reflected a major failing in Crowley’s ability to follow his own rules. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Hell had always been in favour of a bit of disobedience.

8 Some, like his dreams to be cast as James Bond or impersonate the Pope, he had long since abandoned on the grounds that they had been ill-advised in the first place.


End file.
